Picture Perfect Christmas. Melanie Schuster

professors in graduate school and they’d been close friends ever since. When her three-year fellowship ended, he’d urged her to come to New York and have her first big showing at Studio L, his highly regarded gallery in Harlem.

      Chastain gave him a sweet smile. “Make me want to stay forever? How do you plan to do that?”

      He was standing in front of her and returned her smile with one of his own that made him even more handsome. With his dimples showing, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I can’t tell you. But I can show you if you give me a chance.”

      Whatever flirtatious answer she was about to give vanished as Lulu lunged at David. She stood up and barked to get his attention, which made him laugh. “First thing on my list is to make friends with your dog. Isn’t that the way to get to your mistress, little girl?”

      Chastain and Mona rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to charm her, David. Lulu’s a sucker for men, all men. She’s been following your manager around all morning. Just a regular little trollop, if you ask me,” Mona said. “Get your leash and I’ll take you for a walk, Lulu.”

      Lulu dashed off and brought back the leash, but she dropped it on David’s feet and looked up at him with love in her eyes.

      “See? A total trollop,” Mona said fondly.

      “Well, how can I resist such a delightful invitation? I’ll take her for a stroll and then I’ll take you to lunch. How does that sound?”

      “Perfect,” Chastain answered. “As long as we can go to that chicken and waffles place.”

      Mona watched David and Lulu leave, and then she turned to Chastain. “You’ve been holding out on me,” she said in a low voice. Veronica, the gallery’s receptionist, was within earshot and Mona was trying to be discreet.

      Chastain looked at her with amusement. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Come on upstairs with me.”

      Once they were safely out of earshot of Veronica, the sales staff and the manager of the gallery, James Steffney, Mona chided her boss.

      “You’ve been holding out on me. I just got a really good look at Mr. David Llewellyn and he’s much better looking than any professor I ever met, so drop the act. He’s your new man, isn’t he?”

      Chastain had to laugh. She almost hated to disappoint Mona, but the truth was just not that interesting.

      “Girl, you are obsessed! You’re worse than my BFF Paris Deveraux who’s the biggest matchmaker I know. I told you, he was my professor and mentor when I was working on my master’s. We became good friends, nothing else. When he came to France last year he invited me to have a showing here in New York when I finished my project. So don’t go reading more into the situation than there is,” Chastain said pointedly.

      Mona pushed her long, curly hair behind one ear. “I hear what you’re saying, but I also see how he looks at you. I also hear how he talks to you. And trust me, none of my friends react to me like that. He gave us this upstairs apartment to live in while we’re here, and as far as I know that’s very unusual. That place could rent for a few thou a month, easy. Doesn’t that seem a little more than friendly to you?”

      “I’m going to ignore you,” Chastain replied. “Give your overactive imagination a rest,” she added as she headed toward the bedroom.

      “You can run, but you can’t hide,” Mona shouted after her. “I won’t be denied vital information. Inquiring minds have to know.”

      Chastain shook her head. She would admit that lending her the apartment was extra nice of David. It was a beautiful space that was furnished like a design show house. The furniture was mid-century modern and the colors were soft neutrals with pops of bright color. It was extremely generous of David to suggest that she and Mona stay there while her work was being shown, especially since it would go from December 1 through the end of February.

      She went into the large bathroom and surveyed herself in the mirror on the wall behind the counter. Turning on the faucet above the clear glass bowl pedestal sink, she quickly brushed her teeth and washed her hands, then patted her face with a damp washcloth. After working all morning, she should have been at least slightly disheveled, but she was immaculate, as always. She was wearing black wool Capri pants, black ballet slippers and a bronze cashmere cardigan trimmed with little copper beads. She had the sweater on backward so the V-neck showed off an enticing but modest glimpse of her back. She changed into long pants and ankle boots because of the cold weather. Growing up in New Orleans, she enjoyed the chilly temperatures but she never quite adjusted to them.

      She heard the sound of the elevator descending to the first floor. David was coming upstairs to deliver Lulu and collect Chastain.

      Mona waved at her and said, “Bring me a doggie bag, please.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re coming, too.”

      “Chastain, here’s your baby safe and sound,” David said. “She was a perfect lady on our walk.”

      “Were you a good girl? Then you get a treat.” Lulu ran to her crate and was waiting for her when she came in with Pup-peronis in hand.

      “I’ll be back soon,” Chastain promised. She got her coat and joined David and Mona in the living room. “Okay, David, I think we’re ready to go. I’m famished.”

      In a short while they were seated in Sylvia’s Restaurant, one of New York’s soul food landmarks. Chastain knew she wouldn’t have any complaints about the food at Sylvia’s. She had eaten there many times in the past. Mona was sipping sweet tea and looking around appreciatively. Chastain was sticking to hot coffee, insisting that she needed the warmth.

      David looked at Mona appraisingly. “So are you related to Chastain?” he asked.

      Both women shook their heads. “I have about nine thousand cousins, but Monie isn’t one of them. And I’m an only child, remember?”

      “Of course I do. Believe it or not, I remember everything you’ve ever shared with me,” he said smoothly. “But I don’t think you told me how you two met.”

      Chastain winced as she felt a little kick from Mona under the table. She ignored it and began speaking. “We met at a Biedermeier exhibit at the Louvre. Then we kept bumping into each other at different galleries and she took a class that I was teaching and that’s how we became friends. So when you made the generous offer to show my paintings, I needed an assistant and she volunteered to help,” Chastain added.

      “Volunteered? Stalked is more like it. I followed her around, brought her coffee and croissants, and made a pest of myself until she said she would hire me. I had just finished my studies at Sorbonne and I needed a break. So I’m working for a while until I decide whether to get a doctorate or a job,” Mona said cheerfully. “And the only other alternative was to go back to D.C. and be my father’s hostess until I could prove I could support myself, so I am totally happy. I love my dad, but a woman’s got to be on her own sometime,” she added.

      The subject changed when the food arrived. “Are you ready for your interview tomorrow?” David asked.

      Chastain made a little face. “Yes, I am. I’m still not sure why anybody wants to interview me, but I’m game.”

      David had contacts everywhere and Chastain was booked for radio, newspaper and magazine interviews. She’d been interviewed before, when she won the fellowship that sent her to Paris, and in fact had very favorable press coverage while she was there. It was David’s opinion that she was a natural in front of the camera and the microphone, and he told her so.

      “You’re beautiful, brilliant, elegant and thoroughly charming, and anyone who meets you is enriched by the experience. Besides, you’re about to blow up in a major way. It’s called taking the art world by storm. Just relax and get used to it, Chastain.”

      When she was younger, Chastain would have turned purple with embarrassment and used her self-deprecating humor to deflect his